


All We Are

by woakiees



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kind of a crossover, Some adult themes, detective!reader, it gets kind of heavy, kind of a love triangle situation, kind of a self indulgent shit pile of writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-07-29 10:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woakiees/pseuds/woakiees
Summary: Manhattan and the NYPD had been your home for the last six years, but Detroit promised you a new start – a place where you could, hopefully, heal, and find yourself again. *** You do not have to be apart of the SVU fandom in order to read this, as Sonny can be read as an independent character. However, for those of you coming from the SVU fandom, it's suggested that you at least be aware of the concept behind DBH!





	1. Prologue

Your apartment was no longer a home. It was a fortress, guarded by stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes, filled with your precious memories and the items that made you, _ you_. 

Though, if you were being honest with yourself, it hadn’t felt like a home for quite some time. But it didn’t feel like a fortress, either. 

That’s just what you wished it had felt like, and what you wished it had always been. 

You _ wished _ it felt safe and protected. God, you wanted nothing more than to feel _ safe_.

But instead, it felt like hate and anger. Aggression and pain. Torment. Trauma. 

It felt like a padded room, stowed away in the back of a locked and burning asylum. Each moment spent inside made you feel like you were slipping further and further into madness, and closer and closer to giving up. It wasn’t healthy, and you knew you couldn’t keep living in such a way. You _ refused _to continue living that way. 

And so, you stood in the entryway of your small, one-bedroom apartment, arms folded across your chest as box after box was taken from their towers and placed in the back of a moving truck seventeen stories below. This was it – the first step to getting your life back. 

Manhattan and the NYPD had been your home for the last six years, but Detroit promised you a new start – a place where you could, hopefully, heal, and find yourself again. 

Or, at the very least, maybe discover a new, different version of yourself. A stronger, harder one, perhaps. 

You took a few steps backwards, turning until your back came into contact with the wall your entryway table had once sat against. Your arms were still folded, and your bare bicep brushed against soft cotton. You heaved a sigh and closed your eyes.

“You’re gonna need to put a coat on before going outside, doll,” he said, Staten Island accent thick as ever, even though his voice was laced with sadness. 

“I don’t feel the cold anymore,” you mumbled, shifting closer to him, just by an inch. “It’s like I don’t feel anything.”

He nodded his head solemnly, a sigh now escaping his lips. “It’s been hard, ya know…watching you the last few months.”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t think of what to say to him. Thankfully, he didn’t let you suffer long. 

“I’m really gonna miss you, ya know.”

You turned to face your work partner – your _ old _work partner, Sonny Carisi – and gave him a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me now, Carisi.”

He shrugged his shoulders before glancing down at his feet. “We’ve been partners since we both started workin’ for the NYPD. You’ve become my best friend since then. It’s gonna be hard _ not _to miss you.”

Elbowing him gently, you chuckled under your breath before releasing another sigh. “I’m going to miss you too.”

Sonny smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners like they always did before he pulled you into a sideways hug, letting his right arm lay across your shoulders. You gently laid your head on his shoulder, and you both continued to watch as your apartment was cleared. 

And as the last box was removed, you felt the excitement finally sink in. You would never have to spend another night inside this apartment. You were one step closer to being free, and for the first time in months, you felt as if you could breathe. It was beyond refreshing, and beyond needed. 

“That’s all of it,” Shane, one of the movers, told you as he stood in the middle of your empty living room. “Only thing left is the bed. Are you sure you don’t-“

“Leave it,” you insisted, pushing back from the wall and walking towards the man, meeting him halfway.

You signed a form and confirmed the new address, and then it was just you and Sonny. 

You walked into the middle of the room, standing where Shane had just been, and walked in a short, tight circle, taking everything in one last time. Facing the large windows at the back, you had to admit that you would miss the glittering view of New York City below. Just a bit.

If someone had asked you a year ago, you would have said that you would never dream of leaving New York City behind. But now, after everything, you couldn’t _ wait _ for it to be in your rearview mirror. 

With one more glance, you turned on your heel, and with a new determination in your step, you stalked out of the apartment and dropped the keys in the landlord’s hand without a word. Sonny followed close behind, but it wasn’t until you were standing on the sidewalk that he spoke. 

“You’re going to come back and visit, aren’t ya?”

“As long as you promise to visit Detroit every once in a while,” you answered, to which he laughed. 

“Someone is gonna have to come out there and make sure you’re eating more than takeout every single freaking night.” 

You gasped, a sudden realization hitting you. “God, I’m really going to miss your pasta.”

“Yeah, well, my new partner isn’t getting any of it if it makes you feel any better.”

“And why’s that?”

“Come on,” he chuckled, removing his hands from his pockets and pulling you towards him in a tight embrace. “Pasta nights were…_ is _our thing. 

You felt tears prickle at your eyes for the first time that day, and you willed them away. You wouldn’t cry. This wasn’t goodbye. 

You held onto Sonny for a few more seconds before pulling back and patting him on the chest. You huffed and shook your head, keeping your eyes shut for a moment longer. You were just about to speak when he beat you to it. 

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“You too, Sonny. And keep me updated on this new partner of yours.”

“As long as you do the same, doll.”

With one final nod, you parted ways. 

You took a few steps towards the rental car sitting alongside the curb but stopped before reaching it. You looked up and down the street, your eyes tracing the outlines of each building one last time while a certain sadness filled your chest.

Yeah, maybe you were going to miss it just a little.

You got into the car and punched in the address, and before you knew it, New York was nothing but a blur behind you – a shadow in the distance.

But you refused to look behind you any longer. You were looking ahead, towards the future. 

Towards a fresh start and towards a new beginning. 

* * *

In your opinion, your new apartment was coming together rather nicely. Rent was so much cheaper than it was back in New York, and at first you honestly didn’t believe what all you could get for half of what you were paying in Manhattan. 

Your new apartment had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, the master having its own while the spare’s was located directly across the hall. Two bedrooms had been a major selling point for you, as now your guests wouldn’t be forced to sleep on your couch. You weren’t exactly sure what guests you would be having, other than Sonny of course, but it was always nice to be prepared. And, the spare bedroom was large enough that you could fit both the bedroom furniture you had purchased as well as your desk and a bookshelf inside. Majority of the time, it would serve as your home office. 

Coincidentally, or not, you were on the seventeenth floor again. You could see the Detroit River from your spacious balcony, another major reason that you decided to rent the space – the view reminded you just a bit of the Hudson. In your last place, you didn’t have a balcony, and therefore no outside furniture. You were still trying to decide what you wanted to do with the space and made a mental note to go shopping once you received your first paycheck. 

Your kitchen was equipped with all of the newest appliances, but your favorite part had to be the large island, your sink and dishwasher as well as cabinet space on one side while the opposing had four barstools tucked neatly underneath. You loved to cook and having so much space to do so excited you to no end. This new kitchen was at least three times bigger than your previous. 

All of your favorite blankets and pillows were already situated on your large, gray sectional – they had been the first items to be unpacked. Your TV was hooked up, as was your Wi-Fi, and all other electronics. You only had a few more boxes to unpack. Everything was good to go. 

Well, at least you personally thought so. 

If anyone else entered your apartment, and took a look around, they would probably ask you why you had decided to make the smaller bedroom your own, as it was the one with the bed. They would probably ask you your plans for the larger one, which only contained a dresser with an attached mirror, two nightstands, and a chair, or they might ask you who was planning to move in and when.

As you stood in the middle of your new living room, you wondered what you might tell them. 

Surely, not the truth. That you weren’t ready to sleep in your own bed again, even if it was new and different from the one that was probably now sitting in a landfill back in New York. That you had been sleeping on your couch for months now, just to feel a little more at peace in your own home. That even the thought of going back to sleeping in your own bed was enough to send you into a panic attack. 

You shook the thoughts from your head. Really, thoughts of that nature were the last thing you needed to have swirling through your mind. Especially before your first day with a new department, when you needed to be on top of your game. 

Unpacking. You would finish unpacking. Surely, that would serve as an adequate distraction. 

You scanned the five boxes that sat on your living room floor. Three contained books, while the other two held random odds and ends – décor, knickknacks, things of that nature. The books could wait. You didn’t exactly feel like organizing them in alphabetical order in that moment anyways. 

Taking your boxcutter, you swiftly moved the blade through the packing tape and cardboard in one single motion. You ripped back the flaps and started digging around. Framed photographs of you and your friends and family, seashells you had collected over the years from your frequent trips to Montauk. A candle that smelt like peaches. A vintage Himalayan salt lamp your mother had put up in your nursery when you were a baby. You unpacked everything, making a circle around yourself until all that was left was a small, red pouch sitting in the bottom of the box. 

Your face held no emotion as you gently took the velvet bag into your hands. You toyed with the strings briefly, taking notice of how they were beginning to fray at the ends. 

You knew what lay inside. You had held it in the palm of your hand at least a hundred times in the past several months. But even so, you still slowly removed it from the pouch, letting the chilly metal cool your warm hands. 

A golden NYPD police badge, number 3326. 

Not yours. You had been number 2774. You of course had to turn your own badge in the day you left. 

Technically, you weren’t supposed to have this one either. But you didn’t care. Having a badge that didn’t belong to you was the last thing you cared about. 

You ran your thumb across the numbers, like you had done so many times before, jaw clenched and eyes unblinking. With a single curse under your breath, you quickly shoved it back into the pouch before standing up and walking towards your kitchen. 

You had already designated the drawer furthest to the left on the island as your junk drawer. You yanked it open, the contents inside shifting with the force of the movement, and without another glance, you tossed the pouch inside before slamming the drawer shut. 

Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter until your knuckles turned white. You didn’t care that it hurt. Physical pain was a welcoming feelings, especially after having been numb for so long. 

But you weren’t really numb, were you?

No, not exactly. 

You felt your negative emotions so intensely, so deeply, that it had made you almost immune to everything else. You still felt excitement and happiness, but it was dull compared to the darkness beckoning you under and faded before it could fully register within your mind. You felt longing and desire, but the guilt ate away at you until your wants disappeared. 

You were simply numb to the good and didn’t care enough to worry about the bad. 

But that was contradictory in itself, you thought, because you _ did _care. 

You wanted the sadness to end. You wanted to find yourself again, bring yourself back from the desolate void that was threatening to swallow you whole. 

You _ cared _ that your life had been taken from you. You _ cared _that you had allowed it to be ripped out from underneath you. 

You cared, but you didn’t care. 

Numb, but not quite. 

A walking contradiction. A shadow of your former self. 

But really, were you mad that the old you was gone? 

She had been replaced by someone stronger, and more resilient. Someone who wouldn’t let the same mistakes happen twice. Your shell was harder than before, your walls higher. And no, you weren’t mad about it. Not really. 

You would no longer mourn for the girl you had been before. 

She was gone. 

You would stand victorious. 


	2. February 1st, 2039

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi i hope you guys are liking this story so far! don't forget to leave a comment and a kudos and all that jazzzzz

You were sitting in the little lounge area off to the side of the bullpen, lazily swirling around the almost golden liquid contents of your cup. Lots of cream, lots of sugar; the only way you could drink coffee without gagging, though you still would have preferred a splash of vanilla syrup.

Captain Fowler had instructed for you to wait there while he went over your new-hire paperwork and had someone clear both a locker and a desk for you. You thought it would only take ten minutes tops, but that had been half an hour ago, and you were quickly becoming bored.

But bored as you were, the butterflies in the pit of your stomach were proving to be relentless. You were nervous for your first day, of course you were. But really, you thought to yourself, how different could it be from your department back in New York? If you could handle being a cop in NYC, you felt like you could handle being a cop anywhere.

You watched as more and more people flooded into the precinct, either taking a seat at their desks and mentally preparing themselves for the day or heading down a small hallway, duffle bags and backpacks in tow, to where you assumed the locker rooms were located.

You glanced towards the clock for the fourth time. Only another five minutes had passed. You sighed quietly, slouching further into your chair. Might as well entertain yourself.

Grabbing your mostly empty Starbucks cup with one hand, you reached into your backpack with the other, searching for a pen. Once acquired, you brought the tip to meet the top of the mermaid’s head, black ink flowing onto green.

You moved the pen swiftly, the picture in your mind transferring flawlessly onto the cup. You had been drawing on old coffee cups since high school. For whatever reason, you found the action comforting, and oftentimes, it helped you harness your ability to focus later on in the day. You never understood how or why, but that was just the way it had always been.

You shifted your gaze to the left as you heard someone approach, quickly straightening your posture, hoping it would be Captain Fowler. But of course, it wasn’t, and you felt your shoulders slump once more.

An older man with gray hair and a beard to match stumbled into the small lounge. He wore an orange and white striped shirt underneath a worn jacket, and he didn’t even so much as glance at you as he made his way over to the coffee machine. From the expression on his face, you bet he was fun to work with.

Shaking your head slightly, you were just about to turn back to your drawing when you noticed the person trailing behind him.

His eyes were the first thing you noticed – warm and soft and a mesmerizing shade of brown. He was younger than the first man, yet still appearing to be a few years older than you, with dark brown hair that looked so soft, you couldn’t help but want to run your fingers through it just to test the theory. He wore black slacks with a white oxford tucked into his waistband, a simple black tie completing his look. Pretty standard, pretty basic. But on him, well, you had never seen anyone pull it off as well as he managed to.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. That was, until those gorgeous brown eyes were suddenly staring into yours.

Your attention snapped back to your Starbucks cup, pink rising to your cheeks. Of course he had caught you staring. It was just your luck.

Grumbling under your breath, you shook your head gently before leaning forward in your seat, eyebrows furrowed as you tried so hard to concentrate on the design of your cup. But you couldn’t, not with him still standing in his previous spot and staring back at you.

Though, was he? Maybe you just hadn’t heard him walk off, and maybe you were just being paranoid. One more glance wouldn’t…

He was definitely still staring at you, and as your eyes met his once again, you felt your heart stutter. He was _beautiful_.

The man tilted his head to the side, curiosity overtaking his features, and it was then that you noticed the yellow swirl of an LED on his temple.

An android.

That would explain why he was _still_ staring at you, as if you were the most interesting thing in the room. Any human would’ve looked away by now.

You felt yourself smile, just a fraction, and you were about to raise your hand in greeting when a sharp voice broke the almost silence of the room.

“Connor!” the man at the coffee machine snapped, looking over his shoulder towards the both of you. “Leave the poor girl alone and get your ass over here, would’ya? You’re the one who dragged me in this early.”

Connor, as you now knew his name to be, slowly broke eye contact and straightened his tie before walking past you to join the other man. You watched him go by, and then closed your eyes, willing your breathing to return to normal.

The last thing you needed right now was a crush, and from past experience, you knew that that was the feeling blossoming in your chest at that moment.

“Sorry, Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor spoke, his voice somehow strong and gentle at the same time.

You shivered, but quickly shook yourself out of it.

You were _not_ going to develop a crush on him. _Not going to_.

_Especially_ on someone you didn’t know.

_But God, he’s so handsome._

As the pair behind you began to converse, something to do with Red Ice, you were finally able to turn your attention back to yourself. You gripped your pen tighter than before, teeth clenched. A line here, a little shading there. Not very much detail was required, as the face was already done for you thanks to the mermaid. You were able to finish it in another minute or two, and you stuck the end of your pen in your mouth as you examined your work.

You were oblivious to another person entering the lounge area, the sound of sneakers hitting linoleum completely missing your ears. It wasn’t until you heard your name being called that you snapped out of it, though you didn’t turn towards the source.

“Hey, Reed!” Lieutenant Anderson called out.

“Yeah?” you replied by instinct, another voice ringing out at the same moment, deeper in pitch and undoubtedly belonging to a man. You smirked, tilting your head to the left, though you didn’t make any effort to get up just yet.

“You’re gonna have to start clarifying which one, Hank,” Gavin said, taking a few steps towards you. He leaned against the high-top you were sitting at, laying his arm casually along the hard surface. “I’m the better one.”

“Just because you’re older doesn’t make you better,” you quipped back, your smirk deepening further.

“Oh, but it does.”

“Bullshit.”

Gavin chuckled, closing the distance between the two of you. He spun your chair around until you were facing “Hank” and Connor before throwing his arm across your shoulders.

“_This_…is my pain in the ass baby sister, Y/N” he announced.

You nodded to the pair in front of you, letting your eyes roam over Connor’s face for a moment longer than what would be considered customary before returning your gaze to Gavin.

“She just transferred from New York.”

“And why in the hell would you do that?” Hank addressed you, raising an eyebrow in question.

You shrugged, not having enough time to think of an answer that would seem legit. “Needed a change of scenery, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What part of New York?”

“I was a detective for the Special Victims Unit in Manhattan; basically, I worked on any type of sex crimes.”

“And you’re prepared to work Homicide?”

“There are a lot more homicides that come through SVU than you would think, Lieutenant.”

Your answer seemed to be good enough for him, for he only shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

“You done grilling my fucking sister, Hank?” Gavin demanded, his tone starting to turn harsh, like it always did whenever he was annoyed. You slapped his arm.

“This is why I’m the better Reed.”

“Yeah, I already like her better than you, fuckin’ asshole.”

The laugh escaped you before you could even try to stop it. Something told you that you would get along with Hank just fine.

Gavin cursed under his breath, and you chuckled again. He removed his arm from around your shoulders and walked over to grab his own cup of coffee before starting a conversation with Hank. You heard the word “baseball” and instantly tuned out. While you loved the game, you knew they would be talking about the Detroit Tigers, and you couldn’t care less.

You rolled your eyes before they fell on the one person who hadn’t said a word since the short exchange began.

Connor was still watching you, though his LED had switched back to a calming blue. The look of confusion was still evident on his face, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about. You were just about to ask when someone called out your name, again.

“Detective Reed?”

“Yes, sir?”

Captain Fowler stood at the edge of the lounge, clearly exasperated as both you and Gavin answered. He rolled his eyes.

“Her,” he clarified, pointing towards you. He threw a duffle bag in your direction, which you swiftly caught, the weight surprising you just a bit.

“You’re good to go. Everything you’ll need is either at your desk, in your locker, or in that bag. Connor can show you around while I talk to these two,” he explained before nodding towards Gavin and Hank.

You quickly stood, reaching your right hand out to shake with Fowler. “Thank you, sir. I’m really thankful-”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it, kid. Just do your job and do it well. Your former captain had nothing but good things to say about you – said you were one of NYPD’s best. I expect you to live up to the expectations he set.”

Gavin snickered behind you. You quickly folded your arm behind your back, shooting him your middle finger as you smiled graciously at Fowler. “Of course, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now, Connor?”

You turned slightly, watching him as he approached. He smiled gently and nodded his head once. You felt the blush rise to your cheeks again, and you could only nod in return.

“Hello, Detective Reed. My name is Connor. Shall we?”


	3. February 1st, 2039

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEK I really hope you guys are enjoying this story so far! Remember to leave me a comment and a kudos, you know, if you want to<3

Connor showed you your desk first. It looked like all of the others in the large office: L-shaped with two sets of drawers and a glass divider behind, only empty and lacking any personal touches, save for the nameplate that had already been placed at the front of the desk. You made a mental note to bring in some photographs and other small decor items the next morning.

There was a single, small, square sheet of paper sitting on top of your keyboard with instructions on how to access your terminal and the different programs within, as well as the extension number for your phone. Your username was the same as your badge number (1079), and your password was your birth date followed by the last four digits of your social security number. Easy enough.

“Go ahead and try it,” Connor instructed from behind you, hands clasped behind his back. “Just to ensure that it’s working properly.”

You nodded and did as he said, typing the information into the box and hitting the red “login” button.

[ACCESS GRANTED, WELCOME DETECTIVE REED.]

“Works,” you replied, quickly scanning over the different program icons sitting on the computer’s dock. You moved three fingers and your thumb against the trackpad in a pinching motion, effectively opening the launchpad to view those that weren’t on the dock. The NYPD had used most of the same, you were glad to notice. At least you would be familiar with the majority, and you were positive that it wouldn’t take you too long to learn the new ones.

You logged off and stowed the paper away in your jacket pocket, just incase.

You straightened your back and rolled your shoulders before turning to face Connor only to come face to face with his chest. You weren’t expecting him to be so close, and had to reach a hand out to steady yourself before you accidentally rammed yourself into his body. He reached forward and cupped your elbow gently with one hand while the other settled on your waist. A gasp left your lips, and you tilted your head upwards to properly look at him.

His eyebrows were furrowed, a small frown on his lips as his brown eyes stared back into yours. Neither of you moved for a few, long seconds, and it was him who finally broke the contact.

“My apologies, Detective. I was only trying to keep you from falling.”

Oh, if only he knew that you were more at risk for falling now that he had touched you. Your knees felt _weak_.

You nodded before realizing that your hand was still placed firmly on his chest. You quickly pulled it away and used it to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You averted your gaze to the left, looking anywhere but at the man standing in front of you.

“It’s fine, Connor. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Connor took a few steps back, allowing you space to step out from behind your desk. You folded your arms across your chest and nodded at him appreciatively, thankful that your knees had decided _not_ to betray you.

You quietly strolled over to the desk that was attached to yours, curious to see who you would be sitting next to day after day. A smile fell on your lips as you read the name “Gavin Reed” off of the nameplate. Another comfort; something else you were familiar with.

You glanced around his workspace. It looked messy, but you knew that to him, it was all organized in a way that he could find anything that he needed in the matter of seconds. He had always been a chaotically organized person.

You hoped that the fact that your desks were connected meant that Gavin would end up being your partner. It would definitely make the transition even easier.

Connor watched you closely, taking in each of your movements and each expression that crossed your face. “I’m assuming that you and Detective Reed are quite close.”

You glanced over to Connor, a soft smile playing at your lips. “I would say we’re definitely closer now than when we were younger. He’s ten years older than me, I was only eight when he moved out.”

“And then you were in New York and he was here.”

“Right,” you nodded, picking a pen out of the cup on Gavin’s desk. You knew it would have NYPD stamped along the side of it before you even held it in your hand. He had taken a handful from your desk during one of his visits and replaced them with DCPD ones. You fiddled with it gently as you spoke. “But he’s always been there for me. Always taken care of me, ya know?”

Connor nodded his head, and you put the pen down.

“We should move on to the locker room,” he suggested after watching you glance around for another moment.

It was your turn to nod as you moved to stand by his side. “Lead the way.”

Connor straightened his tie, a habit of his, you had noticed, and began to walk away, turning for a brief moment to ensure that you were following him. He led you down a corridor, taking the appropriate turns that you tried your best to memorize until you were standing outside of a door.

“They should have your prints in the system by now. Can you place your hand on the scanner?”

You followed his directions, the scanner flashing green momentarily before displaying the same message your terminal had.

You pulled the door open, holding it for Connor who looked a little taken aback by the action. You raised an eyebrow and he averted his gaze for just a split second before returning his attention back to you.

“Thank, uh...thank you, Detective.”

“No problem.”

He stepped into the room and you followed behind. The lights were dim compared to the bright fluorescents outside, and a quick look around told you that you were alone.

Navy blue lockers lined the perimeter of the room, a single row splitting down the middle, with one continuous wooden bench built into the bottom. You started to walk around, reading the white, glowing names on each locker while you searched for your own. You finally found it along the middle row, on the side not visible from the door.

You threw your backpack and your new duffle onto the bench and lifted your hand to yet another scanner. There was the same “access granted” message, a loud click, and then you were able to pull the locker door open. Your new blues were situated inside, ready for you to take home and stow away in the back of your closet where they would remain until needed, alongside a bulletproof vest you would be leaving at the station. You had your own back at your apartment.

You unzipped your duffle for the first time, taking a look at the contents inside. There was a t-shirt and a hoodie on top, both charcoal in color with the DCPD logo on the front. A pair of black sweats and black athletic shorts, these adorned with the DCPD initials on the left thigh, sat underneath that. And finally, beneath that, sat your new gun and your new badge.

You picked up the gun first – a standard Glock 22 pistol. You let the weight of the firearm settle in your hands, the familiar chill of metal sinking into your fingertips. Somehow, it didn’t feel quite the same as your old gun, even though it was exactly the same. You found it interesting, but not bad.

Placing the weapon back into the holster and setting it on the bench, you reached for your badge. Number 1079. Silver. Completely different from your previous. It was refreshing and new and you found yourself smiling as you traced the numbers.

The badge joined the gun on the bench after a few more seconds of admiring it. You then reached into your backpack, searching for your belt and badge holder. You slid the holster onto your belt effortlessly, like you had done so many times before, and then took your badge and situated it inside the holder, fastening the pin tightly to ensure it wouldn’t budge, before clipping it to the belt. After all was said and done, you adjusted the belt around your body and buckled it. The familiar weight felt comforting around your hips.

You shoved your clothes back into your duffle and pushed both it and your backpack into the locker. Shutting it tightly, you turned to look for Connor. He was leaning against one of the lockers, arms folded across his chest, seeming to be deep in thought as he waited for you patiently.

“Everything okay?” you asked him, mirroring his pose.

He looked almost surprised by your question, his LED flashing yellow before returning to blue, but if he had been surprised, he quickly changed his expression back to something between indifferent and slightly curious.

“Detective, may I ask you a question that might possibly be seen as rather personal?”

“Depends on what it is.”

What could he possibly have to ask you that might be seen as personal? You had just met not even an hour prior, what-

“Why is is that I am not able to access most of your file?”

His question left you dumbfounded. Of course, you knew why he couldn’t view your file, but it had yet to cross your mind that Connor had probably been trying to pull up information about you since he first saw you, and had been failing to do so.

“I’m able to see your name and your day of birth, but nothing else.”

You frowned slightly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “You’re right. That is rather personal.”

“I’m sorry, Detective, I didn’t mean to offend-”

“You didn’t offend me,” you quickly interrupted, shrugging your shoulders before pushing back from the locker. “And one day, I might tell you. But that day isn’t today, got it?”

“Understood.”

Pleased with his answer, you nodded once, mumbling a quiet “okay” as you made your way towards the exit. Connor didn’t move, and when you turned back around to see what he was doing, you found his eyes tracing over your body, a small grin – or was that a smirk? – on his lips.

You raised an eyebrow at the android whose eyes finally found their way back to yours. Was he checking you out? Or was he simply “_scanning_” you? Whatever he had been doing, he didn’t look ashamed to have been caught. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t really mind his eyes on you.

You returned his grin, eyebrow still raised. “You coming?”

“Right behind you.”


	4. February 1st, 2039

Fowler called both you and Connor into his office the second you made it back to the bullpen. Gavin and Lieutenant Anderson were already inside, and neither of them looked very pleased. You and Connor wore the same expression, furrowed eyebrows and tight lips, as you stepped into the small, mostly glass room.

“Captain?” you and Connor asked at the same time, both stealing a short glance at the other for a moment before returning your attention to the man behind the desk. Gavin snickered from his seat, an action that you chose to ignore.

“I’d ask you to sit down, but,” he sneered while rolling his eyes to Hank and Gavin. You heard the pair scoff and mutter in return, and you tried your hardest to hide the smile that was threatening to break through.

Fowler looked to you first, his expression unreadable. “My original plan was to partner you with your brother. I thought it was good idea at first, but upon further thinking, I’ve decided that it might be best to pair you with Lieutenant Anderson and Connor here.”

You shifted from one foot to another, averting your gaze as your frowned slightly at what you were hearing. “Can I ask why?”

“Well for starters, you and Detective Reed are siblings. I don’t think it’s smart to put two family members together. Leads to more reckless behavior, all of that. Second of all, you can pick up Hank’s slack.”

“Hey, whoa, I don’t slack. I am perfectly capable of doing my own damn work, thank you.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. When Lieutenant Anderson doesn’t feel like getting out of bed at 2 o’clock in the morning, or bringing his ass in at 9AM, you and Connor can go on your own.”

Lieutenant Anderson only grumbled under his breath.

“But sir, three isn’t really-”

“This is my final decision for now. If you don’t like it, well, then you can go back to New York, understood?”

Captain Fowler looked extremely unamused. You knew better than to question him further. You clenched your jaw along with your knuckles, trying your hardest not to let your annoyance show.

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now, if everyone is done complaining, you all can go back to work.”

Gavin and the Lieutenant both stood from their chairs, letting the legs scrape noisily against the floor, and you all left the office without another word.

You took a seat at your desk and looked over to Gavin. He was pissed, that much you could tell, though you weren’t exactly sure why. Sure, you were disappointed that you wouldn’t be working with him as closely, but you weren’t mad about it. You were annoyed, but you could understand and appreciate Fowler’s reasoning. You decided to steal a glance towards Connor and Lieutenant Anderson. They were both speaking quietly, but neither looked to be upset. That was definitely a good sign, right?

You turned to face your terminal, deciding to busy yourself with setting up your different accounts when the Lieutenant’s voice rang out to you not five seconds later.

“Hey kid, come on! We just got a call.”

You jumped from your seat, a little too enthusiastically you must admit, causing Gavin to snicker once again. You shot him a middle finger as you made your way to catch up to your new partners.

“So, what do we have, Lieutenant?”

“For fuck’s sake, just call me Hank.”

* * *

The victim’s name was Britney Knox. She was twenty-four years old, born on July 24th, 2014. She lived at 3706 Julian Street in Denver, Colorado, and worked as a school teacher. She had no criminal record, and her blood type was AB Positive. No emergency contact listed. Connor had been able to tell you all of this just from his initial scan alone, and you would have been far more impressed than you were had you not been standing in the middle of a murder investigation.

A crowd had started to gather, press and civilians hoping to catch a glimpse of the body. It was nothing that you weren’t used to, but you still couldn’t help but feel the annoyance start to creep in. You thought the behavior was very, very tacky.

CSI had already begun to take samples from the body, though there wasn’t much that they could do, though they were able to retrieve a good chunk of brown hair wrapped around her fingers. She had been dumped in the river, and had been floating there for about 18 hours before anyone noticed. But you had seen worse come out of the Hudson, that was for sure. It hardly even phased you at this point, if you were being completely honest.

Though, one thing that unnerved you, was the fact that you could see your apartment from the crime scene. It was only three blocks away — you had even passed it on the way.

When you had visited a few weeks prior to moving, when you were hunting for a place to live, you had picked the area because it was known to be one of the safer parts of town, and Gavin had even said so. But of course, you knew better than anyone that terrible things could happen in the safest part of any city. It just unnerved you that your first case was so close to home.

Hank mingled with other detectives while Connor stood off to the side, staring out into the river, looking at who knows what. You watched him for a moment, taking in the even fall of his chest that you knew had no reason to be there — androids had no reason to breathe, afterall. He appeared to be pretty calm, though the swirling yellow on his temple told you otherwise. You wondered what he was thinking about, though you thought better of yourself to ask.

You shook your head, as if the action would help to clear your mind, before glancing back towards Hank, waiting for any instructions that he might give.

When another five minutes passed and none came, you took it upon yourself to walk along the river’s edge, if only to get away from the chaos for just a moment. You shoved your hands deep within your pockets, letting your feet carry you wherever they desired. You had a weird feeling within your gut; something that you couldn’t quite place. You tried to ignore it, but the further your walked, the more intense the feeling became until suddenly you had the urge to stop.

You looked around for a moment, not immediately noticing anything out of the ordinary. Just sand, rocks, a wallet stuck between two rocks, more rocks-

You quickly did a double take, wanting to make sure that it was in fact a wallet and not just another rock. But no, it really was a wallet — small and brown and made of leather. You reached for it, gently pulling it from between the two rocks. It didn’t appear to have been there for very long, judging by the condition and the fact that someone else hadn’t found it yet.

“What did you find?” a voice from behind you called out.

You didn’t turn, recognizing the voice in question to belong to Connor. He stood behind your shoulder, his chest nearly touching your back. You felt your breath hitch at his close proximity, for what felt like the millionth time that day. You cleared your throat, shaking your head gently.

“Just a wallet belonging to…” you mumbled, opening the wallet as you spoke. “Someone named Rick Curtis?”

After glancing at the name, you quickly looked to the picture, instantly taking notice of his shoulder length brown hair. You raised an eyebrow at the image, feeling Connor loom even closer than before.

“Did you notice-”

“That his hair is the same color and the approximate length of the hair found around our victim’s fingers?”

Connor nodded, though you still weren’t facing him. Neither of you spoke for a moment, letting the weight of what you might have just found settle over you both. You were the first to break the short silence, however.

“Is this forreal? Like, who is this fucking careless after just killing someone? I mean, did he not notice that he dropped his wallet?”

Connor stayed silent, and you were sure that he was gathering all of the information that he possibly could on the guy. You took the moment to face him, watching him closely as the wheels in his head turned. Only a few seconds later did he seem to break from his trance.

“He has a previous address in Denver.”

You stayed silent, your eyes widening before flickering to Hank’s approaching figure. He looked exasperated at first, probably because you and Connor had decided to wander off, but the moment he saw your expression, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I think you found our guy, Detective.”


	5. February 2nd, 2039

A hard knock on the door startled you out of a deep sleep. You sat up quickly, though you made no move to actually get up. You contemplated pretending as if you were not home, not wanting to deal with whoever decided to bother you at 7:30 in the morning, but a familiar voice quickly made you change your mind.

“Detroit City Police! Open up!”

You threw your cozy blanket off of your warm body. The hardwood floors of your apartment were cold against your bare feet, causing you to shiver rather violently as you padded towards the door. You disarmed your alarm system and unlocked the deadbolt, swinging the door open before leaning against the frame.

Gavin stood on the other side, two coffees and a white paper bag in hand. His grin soon turned to a frown, eyebrows curiously shooting up, but before he could open his mouth to ask whatever question he had hanging from the tip of his tongue, you were already speaking.

“You know,” you started, relieving him of the beverages and food before turning towards the kitchen. “Some of us _do_ need that extra half hour of beauty sleep.”

“Thirty minutes wouldn’t have helped any. You look like shit,” he retorted as he stepped into your home, swiftly kicking the door shut behind him.

“Gee, thanks.”

“I just call them as I see them.”

You didn’t respond as you opened up the bag of food, smiling to yourself as you pulled out a spinach, feta, and egg breakfast wrap. Your favorite.

“You have a better memory than I thought, Gav,” you commented while taking his ham and cheese croissant out of the bag before grabbing a plate to set it on. “You haven’t bought me breakfast from Starbucks in like, what, three years?”

“Actually, I bought you one in October. You just didn’t eat it.”

You flinched, just barely — not enough movement involved for Gavin to have noticed, you hoped.

A passive yet disturbed look crossed over his face as he seemed to retreat into his thoughts. He lightly traced random shapes on the counter for several moments, and you recognized that he was taking the time to figure out whether or not he should open his mouth and say whatever it was that he was thinking. After a few more agonizingly long seconds, he seemed to have made up his mind as he finally spoke.

“I couldn’t get you to eat for four days. Could hardly get you to drink anything. Sonny and I had to pretty much force you to chug a bottle of water on the second day. You were so mad at us.”

You still didn’t respond, a grimace overtaking your features. You had been furious, but your anger had been misdirected. You knew that now, and Gavin had understood it even in the moment it was occuring. He probably would have been more concerned had you not shown any form of anger in the days following what had happened to you.

After a moment, you sighed and met his eyes.

His words didn’t always show it, but one look into his eyes and you knew he cared. You knew he still felt guilty. You were his baby sister, by ten whole years. He was supposed to protect you, and he felt as if he had failed to do so.

You had told him that there was nothing he could’ve done. He had been states and states away, after all. Logically, he knew you were right, and yet he still couldn’t shake the feeling that _somehow_, he could have done something, _anything_, to protect you.

He had dropped everything the second he received a phone call from Sonny. He hopped on the first available flight and he hardly left your side for the entire week he was in New York. That was more than you had expected, and more than you could ever thank him for.

But it wasn’t good enough for him. He still felt like a failure. And his attitude upon returning to Detroit definitely showed it. Gavin had never been the most pleasant person to work with, but any of his co-workers could tell you that it only got worse.

He would never tell you just how bad his guilt had weighed upon him, but you knew. You could tell.

But you wouldn’t let him know that, of course. That was one argument you wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Still,” you mumbled after a moment of silence, “you remembered that it’s my favorite. Thanks.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

You nodded once before passing him his plate. You both ate in silence, neither awkward nor comforting. It was just…silent.

It wasn’t until his sandwich was gone that Gavin spoke again.

“Why are you still in your clothes from yesterday?”

You looked down at the wrinkled garments covering your body, realizing that he had been right by his earlier statement. You probably did look like shit.

“I crashed as soon as I got home. Just didn’t feel like taking the time to do anything, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, your hair definitely fucking shows it too,” he muttered as he raised his coffee cup to his lips, his eyes trained on what you assumed must be a tangled mess on top of your head.

You glanced at the clock, deciding that you had time for a quick shower. You shoved the rest of your wrap into your mouth before taking several gulps of your almost too-hot coffee, your tongue burning in protest.

You told Gavin your plan before slipping away down the hall to your bedroom. Once the door was shut, you leaned back against it for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath. Today was already proving to be emotionally difficult, and knowing that as soon as you got to work you would be tracking down Rick Curtis, you didn’t know if you would make it through the day without snapping at someone.

You pushed back from the door after taking another moment and hurried into your ensuite. You quickly asked the built-in AI to shuffle your music, pleased with the choice, before stripping yourself of yesterday’s clothing. Adjusting the water settings until they were to your liking, you quickly climbed in, never once glancing in the mirror.

You stood underneath the warm water and felt some of the tension instantly leave your shoulders. With the water cascading down around you, your music loud and the outside world nonexistent in that moment, you were able to finally let out a breath it felt like you had been holding since the previous night.

Connor had seen you cry, after you made it back to the precinct. You weren’t entirely sure what had set it off, but you felt absolutely ridiculous. It had been eight years since you started working in law enforcement. You had seen countless murders, many much more gruesome than what you had seen the previous night. So why had the Knox case been the first one to make you cry in years?

At least you had been able to compose yourself before Hank noticed. And at least you didn’t cry that hard in front of Connor. No, he had only seen a few stray tears.

But you still didn’t understand why there had been any tears in the first place. You had discovered a pretty solid lead, something that should have made you more than ecstatic, and you still had let yourself break.

You refused to let yourself dwell on it.

Grabbing your shampoo, you lathered the strawberry scented soap through your hair before following it with conditioner in the same scent. You finished your shower, turned off the water, and reached for your towel that should have been hanging on the back of the door.

Except, you came up empty handed, your fist only closing around air. You peaked from behind the shower curtain and cursed under your breath. You had forgotten that all of your towels were in the dryer.

You stood there, arms folded across your chest and a pout on your lips. You couldn’t leave the bathroom soaking wet, but you also knew what would happen if you asked Gavin to bring you a towel.

He would bring you one, of course, but then he would have to walk through your bedroom to bring it to you.

Your bedroom without a _bed_.

He would ask you where it was, where you were sleeping, why you didn’t have one. He’d probably be able to figure it out without you having to tell him.

You weren’t sure that you were ready for that conversation just yet.

But, you also had no other choice.

You stepped out of the shower, water pooling on the floor beneath you. You’d clean it up later. Grabbing the door handle, you opened it just enough to poke your head out and yelled Gavin’s name loud enough for him to hear it through the closed bedroom door.

A few seconds later, the door swung open and Gavin stepped inside. You watched as he looked around the room for just a brief moment with a frown on his face, his eyebrows furrowed. You sighed.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes still set on where a bed should have been.

“I forgot a towel,” you explained. “Can you grab me one from the dryer?”

He nodded once before turning back down the hall. You only had to wait 30 seconds before one was placed in your hand, Gavin avoiding your gaze both out of privacy as well something else that you couldn’t quite place. You thanked him quietly before shutting the door in his face and drying yourself off.

Once completely dry, you exited into your bedroom and immediately went to your walk-in closet and began hunting for something to wear.

You finally settled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a white v-neck, a green utility jacket, and a pair of white sneakers. Grabbing your belt from your dresser, you buckled it around yourself before checking to make sure that everything important was there. Badge, handcuffs, gun, check.

You finished getting ready, taking about another fifteen minutes before you made your way back out to the living room.

“Ready?” you asked Gavin as you grabbed your phone and wallet off of the counter before shoving them into your duffle and making your way to the door.

He nodded and stood from the couch, grabbing his coffee cup from the counter on his way past. You held the door open and waited for him to reach you.

There was a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. His gaze was hard, but not cold. He looked concerned but upset and only slightly annoyed at the same time. You were just about to ask if something was wrong when he answered your question for you.

“I ordered you a bed,” he mumbled as he walked past you and out into the hall.

You stood frozen for a moment, panic slowly swirling in the pit of your stomach.

Not now. You couldn’t panic in front of Gavin.

_Inhale, hold, exhale, repeat._

_Inhale, hold, exhale, repeat._

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your eyes still focused on nothing in particular as you pushed the unwanted emotions away.

With one quick nod to yourself, you stepped out into the hallway and locked your door, pushing on the handle to make sure it wouldn’t budge.

_Inhale, hold, exhale, repeat._


End file.
